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Three: The Private
Dungeon
The
six men led me to the private room and I became very frightened as we entered
the semi-darkened room which was actually a smaller dungeon. I heard the heavy
steel door being locked behind us and I knew there was no escape. I was
terrified when I saw the inside of the dungeon. There was a huge range of
bondage equipment hanging from racks and from the walls: chains, manacles, gags
and a lot of black leather harnesses and straps. There were several racks
containing a vast selection of whips of all kinds and then there were larger
items including a slant board, a whipping frame and an x-cross, as well as a
whipping bench and horse. The men enjoyed showing me all the equipment and
telling me in great detail what kind of punishment they liked to inflict on a
slave girl like me. I was very frightened when I was shown the range of torture
equipment but I didn’t cry and I was determined not to ask for mercy.
I
felt very vulnerable with the six old and sadistic men as my masters for the
rest of the night. I stood there in the dungeon surrounded by the leering men
all looking at my young body with lustful gazes. After they had removed my gag
and handcuffs they ordered me to strip to my underwear. I obeyed immediately
and unbuttoned my thin top. I slipped it off and dropped it on the floor. I
unzipped my PVC skirt and again slipped it off. I stood there in just my scanty
bra, thong, suspender belt and nylons. I was perched on top of my 8” heels,
feeling now a true slave girl.
The
men ordered me to bend over a waist high leather stand and they bound my wrists
and ankles to thick rings at the base of the four legs. They used leather
thongs and they bound them so tight they cut into my flesh. It was my first
experience of bondage and it was already turning me on with the feeling of
helplessness. The men were obviously experienced in putting girls into bondage
and knew how to make it hurt. It was quite painful being bent double and
standing on my high heels as there was a lot of pressure on the backs of my
calves. But then the real pain began.
The
men all chose a cane each from the stand and after making me wait for the first
stroke then started to thrash me in turn over my raised bottom and the backs of
my thighs. The cruel men told me to count every stroke and then say “thank you
master”. My tiny thong panties gave me no protection against their canes and I
was soon sobbing with the pain. Between my cries I tried to call out the number
if I could remember it. If I forgot to count or didn’t say “thank you master”
they would just repeat the stroke but even harder. Their strokes were slow and
vicious. They certainly knew how to thrash a girl mercilessly. I counted up to
50 strokes and still they lashed their canes across my now-welted bottom and thighs.
The men really loved to cane a girl and grunted with pleasure every time they
lashed their cane across my ravaged bottom. As the number of strokes mounted I
feared they were going to cut my poor bottom to pieces. I expected at any moment to see my blood
trickling down the inside of my thighs. Although I couldn’t stop myself
screaming with the pain, I gritted my teeth and was determined not to beg for
mercy. When I finally said “100, thank you master” they mercifully stopped and
I breathed deep sighs of relief. I was pleased that I had endured my first
whipping without crying too loudly.
The
men left me bent double over the whipping frame while they enjoyed some drinks.
Every few minutes one of them would run his leather-gloved fingers over my
countless welts, making me sob with the pain. They loved to taunt me and they
would grab hold of my hair and yank my face up so I was looking close into
their sweaty faces. Then they would delight in telling me that they had only
just started on me and that there was much more pain to come.
They
drank a lot while they abused me, calling me a “slut” and mauling my semi-naked
body. After a while they decided to change my bondage and unbound the thongs
from my wrists and ankles. It was a brief relief as the leather had sunk deep
into my skin. I was glad to stand upright again and take the pressure off the
back of my calves. My bottom and thighs were on fire and I daren’t look down to
see the damage which had been done to them.
The
men led me to a large wooden whipping frame in the form of an X-cross. They
chained me up in a spread-eagled position so I was facing them and standing on
tiptoe on my 8” heels. I had steel manacles fastened to my slim wrists and
ankles which hurt my tender flesh already badly bruised by the leather thongs.
I was facing the six men and they told me they were now going to whip my
breasts. I nearly fainted in terror when I heard what they were going to do to
me. I was very proud of my 36” breasts, especially my hard, pointed nipples. It
was these assets that convinced me to become a model but I was now faced with
the ultimate, sadistic punishment for any girl. I always loved to wear sexy
bras, especially push-up ones, to show off my perfect breasts and even
quarter-cup ones to show my nipples if I felt daring enough. Now I was going to
feel the lash of the whip over my precious breasts and I was very frightened.
Before
they began to whip me they showed me the whips they were going to use on my
breasts. They really wanted to terrify and humiliate me. One was a thick
leather whip about a foot long while a couple of them were many-stranded cat of
nine tails. Another was a fearful looking bullwhip which looked very long and
nasty. A couple more were shorter, multi thronged whips. It was an awesome
collection and I couldn’t believe they were going to use them all on my poor
defenceless breasts.
Before
they began whipping me, they humiliated me further by making me kiss every whip
and lick all up and down the leather strands. The taste of the leather was
strange but also quite exciting. They also pushed the whip handles into my
mouth making me lick and suck them just like a hard cock. They wanted to see me
act like a slut and as I took the handles deep into my mouth they enjoyed
telling me that I deserved to be punished for being such a slut and that I was
really asking for a hard tit-whipping. They actually asked me whether I
deserved to be whipped on my breasts. I couldn’t answer them with my mouth full
of the leather whip handle but I nodded my head and continued sucking like a
good submissive slave girl.
I
noticed that there were a couple more men in the dungeon in addition to the six
older men and it was obvious that they were taking photos of me. One was using
an ordinary camera while the other was filming me. I hoped I might be having my
photo in one of your magazines and even star in a video. I was so excited I
could feel my thong panties getting wet. I was so pleased that I had made it as
a model and I writhed in my manacles on the cross to make myself look as sexy
as possible. I wanted to look really good as a bondage model and I wanted you
to be pleased with me when you saw my photos. I do hope you publish them
because I’d like lots of people to see me being whipped. I must be an exhibitionist
as well as an eager and willing submissive!
After
a few more minutes the nasty-looking men prepared themselves each side of me.
One of the men lightly swished his multi-thonged whip
over my nipples. I writhed as the lashes caressed my sensitive nipples and I
immediately arched my back, thrusting out my breasts as far as my bondage would
allow. I couldn’t believe what I was doing in response to the first kiss of the
whip. I was a 16 year old girl waiting for my first tit-whipping and I was
actually offering my pointed breasts to the leather whip. I couldn’t believe I
was offering myself in this way. I was glad I was wearing the quarter-cup bra
as it pushed my breasts upwards leaving my nipples completely exposed. The men
told me that I had perfect breasts for a whipping as they were pointed, upright
and well-developed for my age. They also liked my bra which pushed my breasts
up and exposed my prominent nipples. I liked their compliments although I knew
they were all sadists and just wanted to hurt me. Being chained spread-eagled
to a punishment cross was what I had always wanted. It was a popular image of
the girls in all the photos in your magazines. I hope you like hearing what a
completely submissive slave girl I’d become. I know I’ve been too honest with
you but it’s what I really feel.
After
playing with me for a while, the men began the whipping of my breasts. The
first man took careful aim and then lashed a thick leather whip across my
defenceless breasts. I tried hard not to cry with the pain. He raised the whip
again and cracked it right across both of my breasts as hard as he could. Again
and again the whip lashed across my heaving breasts. I gritted my teeth and
threw my head back against the wooden cross with the pain. I didn’t want to
scream. I wanted to show the men that I could take it without asking for mercy.
The
first man had given me over a dozen lashes before another man took his place
and began lashing me with the cat of nine tails. I shut my eyes as he raised
his whip high in the air and then cracked it across both breasts. He whipped me
again and again without mercy and every lash landed right across the middle of
my defenceless breasts. The pain was so bad I sobbed and cried but still I
didn’t beg for mercy.
I
dared to look down at my breasts and could already see deep weals
appearing across them. My nipples were also becoming swollen. The man continued
to lash his cat of nine tails really hard, taking aim every time. He grunted
with every lash and the other men cheered as the whip cracked across my naked
breasts. After what seemed like dozens of lashes the next man took over and
this time used the dreaded bullwhip. He stood some distance from me and when
this long vicious whip fell across my throbbing, swollen breasts I began to scream.
I couldn’t stop myself. I screamed with the terrible pain but somehow through
my tears I managed to stop myself from begging them to stop.
I
could see my thin quarter-cup bra being ripped to shreds with the awful
bullwhip and the shoulder straps hung limply off as they were torn in two. I
had worn the bra to look like a model slut but I regretted wearing it as it
gave me no protection from the whip. Now my bra was in tatters and my breasts
took the full force of the terrible whip. I writhed in pain as the bullwhip
landed again and again, curling round the top half of my body and cutting right
into my tender breast flesh. I tried to escape the force of each lash but the
manacles held me tight to the cross. All I did as I writhed was to rub my tiny
wrists and ankles raw on the steel manacles.
The
next man took over and now another multi-stranded whip cut up my precious
breasts. This man swore and called me a “fucking slut” as he lashed his whip
again and again right across the centre of both my breasts. By now I was
screaming loudly with every lash. I now begged them to gag me so they couldn’t
hear me if I begged for mercy. They laughed at me and said they enjoyed my
screams. They told me that they liked nothing better than to whip a young
girl’s breasts and to hear a girl scream in agony. The man continued to wield
his whip, lash after lash and I just cried every time. My tears streamed down
my face but still I didn’t beg them to stop.
Two
more of the men took over punishing me and standing one either side they
wielded their leather whips in turn. They started on my belly saying they
wanted to cover it in dark weals from my crotch to my
breasts. I cried with every lash that fell across my flat taut belly. After a
couple of dozen lashes across my naked midriff they moved upwards to my swollen
breasts. When one of the men gave the order “stick out your tits, slut!” I
arched my body as much as my bondage would allow, thrusting out my breasts to
give the men a better target. I held that position submissively as lash after
lash fell across my breasts. The two men didn’t tire and kept up their
alternate lashes with measured violence. I screamed louder and louder with
every vicious lash and soon I pleaded with the men to gag me. My endless
screaming frightened me and I wanted a large gag in my mouth. I wanted to be
gagged so I couldn’t beg for mercy. I was keen to make a good impression in
your film and to become a perfect bondage model. The men ignored my pleas and
said people who watched the video would enjoy hearing me scream.
I
was convinced as my whipping went on relentlessly that the sadistic men would
eventually slice my breasts off with their whips. They had no mercy on me and
wielded their whips with extreme violence.
Every time a lash cut into my flesh the rest of the men cheered and
urged my tormentors to whip me even harder. I lost count of how many lashes I
received but it must have been over 100.
After
what seemed like hours the whipping ceased. One of the men yanked on my long
blonde hair and made me look down at the state of my breasts. I was shocked as
I could see my precious nipples were dreadfully swollen and had turned a dark
blue. My breasts were also badly swollen and were covered all over with dark
red and blue weals. There were cuts all around my
nipples as well as right across both breasts and blood was trickling down them
over my belly. My body looked in a dreadful state and I wondered if I would
ever be beautiful again. I was seriously regretting my decision to join Club
Model World. I wasn’t sure how long I could endure a career as a BDSM model but
I knew I had signed up for life and there was no escape for me now.
The
men cruelly made me kiss all their whips again and thank them. It was a
sadistic way to humiliate me further. Again I tasted the leather as I licked
the whips but also I tasted my blood which covered the leather strands. They
then left me chained to the cross while they had more drinks. I stood there
spread-eagled, my body in agony and exhausted. I was weeping all the time and I
was afraid I wouldn’t be able to take much more punishment. I whispered quietly
though my tears “please don’t hurt me any more, please”, hoping they wouldn’t
hear me. One of them caught my plea and told me that my punishment was far from
over. He told me I was a slave girl for life and that I’d better get used to
torture. They laughed cruelly at my sobbing and told me not to be such a
whiner.
All
six men inspected the damage they had done to my breasts, running their
leather-gloved hands over my bruised, welted and lacerated breasts. They had no
mercy on me as they twisted and mauled my swollen breasts. They told me they
enjoyed my tears and hearing my screams.
One
of the cruel men then ran his leather-gloved hand between my open legs and told
me that were going to whip my “whore’s cunt” before
the evening was out. He smiled as he said how much they would enjoy whipping me
between my legs and said that all young model girls should be punished there.
He pulled on my tiny black thong and said I was dressed just right for a cunt-whipping.
The
men then released me from my bondage on the X-cross. They unlocked the manacles
from my wrists and ankles and I was able to gain temporary relief from the
painful spread-eagle position. I stood there surrounded by the six men, waiting
for my next torture. I was very frightened at being whipped on my most precious
area but I knew I had to go through with it. I was determined not to beg for
mercy. I knew that there was no way I could escape even if I’d wanted to. And I
have to admit I didn’t want to escape. I just stood there with my head bowed
and put my hands behind my back. I wanted so much to be an obedient, submissive
slave girl. I could see the cameras were
still filming me and I was so keen to make a good impression as a bondage
model.
My
torn and tattered bra now hung limply from my ripped shoulder straps. One of
the men ordered me to strip off the remains of my bra and I unclipped it. The
black lycra cups felt wet
from my blood which had trickled down from the multitude of cuts across my
breasts. After dropping the torn remains of my bra on the dungeon floor, I
looked at my breasts which were terribly badly bruised and cut all over. My
nipples were virtually unrecognisable. I wept when I saw the state of my
breasts after the whipping as they were no longer the perfectly round, firm
shape that I had been proud to show off as a girl. I was only 16 and I prayed
that my poor breasts would heal.
The
men took loads of close-up photos of my abused breasts, telling me that many
men loved seeing young girls with their tits tortured. They told me that Club
Model World even published a magazine entitled “Tit Torture” which I might
appear in. My heart leapt a beat when I thought I might be appearing in one of
your magazines. I hope my photos are good enough. The men ordered me to cup my
hands under my breasts and push them upwards to display them off to the camera.
I usually loved to show off my ample breasts but now I sobbed as my hands
fondled my bruised and bleeding breasts. I followed their commands and thrust
my breasts upwards like a good stripper or porno model. They took loads more
photos as I writhed my body in front of the camera, pushing my breasts as far
out in front of me as I could. It hurt terribly but I wanted so much to show
off my proud but swollen assets.
After
I had posed for countless pictures, I had my hands pulled roughly behind my
back. I had enjoyed a few seconds of freedom before being put into bondage
again. One of the men began tying my wrists and informed me that he was using
electrical flex. He told me that he wanted to put me into really painful
bondage. I was scared but also thrilled by the dominant power of the man. It
was exciting to feel totally helpless. As he finished tying the knots very
tightly, the plastic-covered wire cut deep into the flesh of my tiny wrists. I
moaned with the pain. My wrists were already raw from the various types of
bondage: handcuffs, leather thongs, steel manacles and now electrical flex. The
man was skilled in very tight bondage and it felt as if the flex was cutting
right through my slim wrists. I could then feel my elbows being bound with more
wire and they were crushed tightly together. My limbs were supple as I was a
young girl but the flex was still very cruel and painful. I cried and even
thought of asking the man to release me. But I was determined to endure the
punishment. After all I was now a submissive slave girl and I had to get used
to severe bondage.
I
saw one of the men placing a flat board on the floor in front of me and he
ordered me to kneel on it. Having balanced on my 8” heels for a long time I was
glad of the chance to kneel but as I did so I realised that this was yet
another cruel torture. The board was covered with barbed wire spikes and I was
forced to kneel on them. I cried out as the steel spikes cut into the flesh of
my knees but I didn’t dare to resist or complain. My whole body shook with pain
as my weight pushed my knees into the sharp spikes. I didn’t dare move an inch.
The men stood around me, laughing and jeering at my distress. The bondage
around my elbows caused my breasts to be thrust out further and I could see the
men admiring my well-whipped breasts. They told me I looked the perfect bondage
model. They told me I looked especially good kneeling on the Devil’s Spikes
which was one of their favourite tortures. They liked the torture device
because they could leave a slave girl kneeling all night long, while they went
off to bed, knowing the slightest movement would tear her knees to shreds.
I
liked their compliments and it made me feel a little better. They smiled as
they told me that I would be receiving many more tit-whippings as a slave girl
of Club Models.
3800
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